


Fools Rush In

by thatkategirl82



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, SO MUCH FLUFF, Science Girlfriends, Slow Dancing, There is no plot just fluff, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29413308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatkategirl82/pseuds/thatkategirl82
Summary: Mary felt Marisa’s hand grasp hers again and turned to look at the dark-haired woman. Marisa’s eyes shone, bright and warm, and she smiled a smile that put the blaze of the sun to shame.“Would you care to dance?”
Relationships: Marisa Coulter/Mary Malone
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Fools Rush In

**Author's Note:**

> Some Maryisa fluff for Valentine's Day weekend!! Please enjoy this slightly AU fic about science girlfriends falling in love. :)
> 
> (If you want some true feels, I wrote this as I listened to Can't Help Falling in Love - the Kina Grannis version. Highly recommend.)

Mary spotted her, across the room. She had been chatting with another coworker but was alone now, seated at her spot at the dinner table. She was sitting sideways in her chair, one long leg crossed over the other, her elbow leaning on the back of the chair and her smooth cheek resting in her upturned palm. She was watching the dance floor, lips slightly upturned as Oliver picked up his new wife and spun her in a haphazard circle, bridal party cheering and clapping over the upbeat pop melodies of Taylor Swift singing about paper rings.

The flashing colors of the dance floor lights bled out into the rest of the room, casting pinks and purples and yellows over the white drapery and gentle fairy lights dangling from the chandeliers, doorways, and stretched across the ceiling from every corner. Mary admired the decorations for a moment more, making a mental note that she had yet to sign the guestbook, before her eyes drifted back to _her_.

She was in the same place, still watching the shenanigans on the dance floor with amusement. Her dark red dress was knee length, the material hanging over the chair and billowing a bit as her leg bounced in time with the music. Tiny gemstones emblazoned her skirt, sparking and shimmering each time the light caught her. She hardly looked _real_. To Mary, she was but an ephemeral being existing only in this particular moment in time.

Mary’s eyes roamed up, admiring the way the dress hugged each curve. Marisa’s full back was exposed, the halter top of the dress hooking behind her neck. In the front, a diamond shaped cutout exposed the milky white skin of her chest.

With a start, Mary tore her eyes away from the other woman. She tugged at her suit jacket, suddenly feeling a bit too warm and a bit uncomfortable in her outfit. Dressing up was not something she particularly enjoyed, but she knew she couldn’t say no when Oliver had asked her to be his best woman. She’d laughed a rolled her eyes but was honored to stand up there beside one of her longtime coworkers as he married the love of his life. Oliver and Jess told her she could wear whatever she felt like, as they were already breaking with traditions by having a best woman instead of a best man, so she was free to choose whatever outfit she felt comfortable in be that dress or suit.

She’d opted for a suit. Mary was never one to enjoy constricting dresses so, aside from the few summery skirts she wore around the house, she generally leaned towards the convenience of pants.

What she ended up finding had been beyond perfect. It was the most beautiful black pantsuit: form fitting in all the ways she liked, but loose enough not to make her feel out of sorts. The pantlegs melded to her skin, ending a few inches above her ankles in a way that the shopkeeper had assured was the current style. Not to look like the shortest person in the bridal party, she’d opted to wear heels for the ceremony but had immediately changed into a pair of white converse for the reception. With her makeup done and her usually unruly hair swept up with a few ringlets left down to frame her face, Mary had felt like the definition of _confidence_.

Well, she did, before she’d started drooling over the effortless beauty of Marisa Coulter.

Feeling suddenly too hot and too constricted in her suit jacket, Mary skirted around the guests milling about and made her way to the entryway of the large reception hall. Oliver and Jess had really gone all out, renting one of the largest and most luxurious hotels in the city. The long hallway that led away from the reception hall opened up to an outdoor balcony overlooking the London skyline.

Pushing open the balcony door, Mary stepped out into the crisp night air. Like a bug attracted to the light, Mary’s feet carried her towards the edge of the balcony until she found herself leaning against the railing. Her hands curled against the cool metal and she breathed deeply. It was quiet out here compared to the deafening thunder inside; she could hear the bass pumping through the walls, but it was muffled and muted. She was alone, for the first time all day, with her thoughts.

Thoughts that quickly turned back to Marisa Coulter.

That woman. Mary had barely even spoken to her since she’d joined her department a few months ago. They’d been seated near one another at a conference last week and had shared a table on the lunch break, but other than some small talk about the weather the two of them had both turned towards their books and papers. It was a mutual, unspoken understanding that Mary had appreciated immensely. Marisa didn’t try to force conversation, neither did Mary, and when the lunch hour was over, they walked back into the lecture hall side by side without a word.

She was a curious woman. It was as if she’d dropped in from a whole different world. She never spoke about herself, keeping every conversation strictly professional and research-focused. There was a story there and Mary wondered if that was why she couldn’t manage to get Marisa out of her head. She wanted to know her story.

That, and that _damn_ red dress. 

The click of the door opening behind her pulled Mary from her thoughts. She turned to see who invaded her safe haven of quiet and, as if it was a scene from one of those romantic comedies Mary secretly adored but would never admit to watching, there _she_ stood. Marisa Coulter, one hand holding the stem of a wine glass and the other resting on the door, staring back at her.

“Oh,” Marisa looked surprised. “I didn’t realize anyone would be out here.”

Mary’s heart hammered a little too loudly. _Pull yourself together, Malone._ “Are you looking for an escape from that awful music too?” Mary smiled, albeit a bit awkwardly.

Marisa returned the smile, taking her words as an invitation, and approached the railing where Mary stood.

“Hmm,” Marisa looked out over London, watching the London Eye as it spun slowly in the distance. “It’s like you read my mind, Dr. Malone.”

“Mary,” Mary corrected, training her gaze on the skyline instead of the woman beside her. She wasn’t sure if it was the close proximity of Marisa or the way the breeze picked up her scent, but Mary was nearly overwhelmed by the intoxicating smell of vanilla and lavender. 

Marisa turned her gaze to Mary, smiling. “Mary, then. Please call me Marisa.”

“So, Marisa, how are you liking the department so far?” Mary found herself asking. She wanted to ask Marisa about her dreams, and her fears, and her passions – but those topics weren’t safe. Talking about work was safe.

“I quite like it,” Marisa said, earnestly. She fiddled with the stem of her wine glass. “I appreciate the challenge Oxford offers.”

“Remind me again where you worked before?”

Marisa’s face hardened. “Somewhere I will never return.”

“Oh,” Mary blinked, immediately regretting her question. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—,”

“Oh no,” Marisa was smiling again, and she reached out to lay her hand over top Mary’s, which rested on the railing. “It’s quite alright. My time before Oxford was…well, a bit like living in another world.”

There was a flicker of something across her face. Hurt. Anger. Sadness? 

No, not just sadness. Grief.

“Well, we’re all very glad to have you. You're an incredible addition to our team.”

Mary flipped her hand over, gently grasping Marisa’s fingers and running her thumb over the top of the other woman’s knuckles. She was more than a little surprised when Marisa squeezed back. 

Minutes ticked by. Marisa didn’t pull her hand away, and neither did Mary. The two stood in silence, Mary not quite knowing what else to say and Marisa lost deep in thoughts of the past as she watched cars inching along the street below. They stood there, hands entwined, simply existing alone yet together.

The moment was broken when Oliver’s cousin threw open the balcony door and popped his head out.

“Mary! There you are! Get in here, it’s time for the bouquet toss and Jess is demanding you be part of it.”

Mary sighed. “I already told her—,”

“Don’t make me pick you up and carry you in there.” Ben raised his eyebrows and grinned, and Mary sighed again.

“Fine, I’m coming.”

Ben nodded, disappearing. The door drifted closed and Mary turned her eyes to Marisa.

“I’m sorry,” She said, cringing a bit. “If I thought Ben was joking, I’d risk staying out here, but I’m quite certain he’s not. I’d rather save myself the mortification of being carried in and plopped at Jess’s feet.”

Marisa red-tinted lips quirked up, her eyes flashing. “But what a sight that would be.”

Mary’s cheeks lit up, a bright blush painting itself the whole way down her neck. “Yes, well,” She coughed uncomfortably and motioned towards the door. “I’ll see you back in there!”

“You certainly will.” Marisa called at her retreating figure.

Mary made it just in time.

“There you are!” Jess grabbed her hand and forced her front and center of the crowd of single ladies. “Stand here.”

“Jess—,” Mary objected.

The woman in white leveled her with a fierce glare. “Mary Malone, it’s my wedding and you will do as I say. I know you’re married to your work, but so was Oliver until I caught the bouquet at my sister’s wedding. You've got to at least be open to the possibility.” She winked and was gone in a flash.

Mary sighed deeply, crossing her arms over her chest but planting herself in the spot Jess had pointed out. The bride turned away from the gaggle of giggling women, and the DJ counted down. When he said “three!” Jess let the bouquet go and it sailed backwards, right overtop of Mary to the back of the group. It bounced out of one woman’s grasp, tumbling across the fingertips of the shrieking crowd, before landing squarely in the arms of a dark-haired woman wearing red.

Marisa Coulter looked stunned as she stared at the flowers in her arms. The other women dispersed, some laughing and some grumbling. Mary made a beeline for her, grinning when Marisa looked up and found her gaze.

“I would’ve never taken you as someone to take part in silly traditions.”

Marisa shrugged, nodding toward the table and beckoning Mary to follow her. “I can’t say I’ve experienced this tradition before. What does catching it mean?”

“What, really?” Mary’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Marisa sat down gingerly, balancing the bouquet in her lap, and Mary pulled up a chair next to her.

Marisa shrugged, smoothing down some wayward flowers. “Where I’m from, weddings are very demure and sophisticated occasions. We don’t toss bouquets.”

“You aren’t missing out on much, honestly,” Mary shook her head. “They say if you catch the bouquet, you’ll be the next one to get married.”

Marisa froze, eyes widening into saucers. “I’m the – _what_?”

“It’s just a tall tale,” Mary explained, unable to stop herself from laughing at the genuine horror on Marisa’s face. “Jess believes it, but Jess is an artist who also believes in the healing power of charging crystals under moonlight. You don’t need to worry.”

“Hmm,” Marisa’s eyes flicked from the bouquet up to Mary.

Just then, the thumping pop music slowed to a gentle guitar melody. Mary watched as Oliver led Jess towards the center of the room, gathering her in his arms. She leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss against his lips. Soon, other couples joined. Oliver’s grandmother had set her sights on Ben, while Jess’s grandparents swayed gently, wrapped in a tight embrace. The flashing lights had settled and the dance floor was bathed in a gentle pink tint, fairy lights twinkling above the heads of those in love.

Mary felt Marisa’s hand grasp hers again and turned to look at the dark-haired woman. Marisa’s eyes shone, bright and warm, and she smiled a smile that put the blaze of the sun to shame.

“Would you care to dance?”

Mary blinked, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. And then, not quite knowing what possessed her to do so, she nodded.

Marisa led her towards the center of the dance floor, stopping not too far from where Jess and Oliver swayed together. Mary felt awkward, being in such a close and intimate proximity with someone she hardly knew – and yet, she couldn’t imagine anywhere else in the world she’d rather be.

Marisa closed the distance, draping her hands over Mary’s shoulders and around her neck. Automatically, Mary’s hands fell to Marisa’s waist. One rested at her hip, the other encircling her small frame to rest on her lower back.

“I’m not a great dancer.” Mary admitted, quietly, as they began to move slowly to the music.

“Just follow my lead,” Marisa breathed. “Take my hand.”

Mary’s cheeks burned again but she did as she was told. Marisa, who was nearly a head taller, began stepping back and forth in time with the music. Mary followed, glancing nervously down at her feet. Marisa was wearing sky-high stilettos and Mary was all but convinced she was going to trip her and take them both down.

“Mary,” Marisa said, catching her attention. “Just relax. Close your eyes and listen to the music.”

And so she did.

With her eyes closed, her body loosened. Slowly, her feet began to move in rhythm. She followed Marisa’s lead, swaying against her body. The hand that had rested on her shoulder made its way to the back of her neck, sending a shiver down Mary’s spine.

When she opened her eyes, she found Marisa’s bright blue ones staring back. Mary was never one to put herself out there – she lacked confidence when it came to matters of the heart. And yet, with Marisa Coulter looking at her like that, she figured _what the hell_.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Mary murmured. “It’s been really nice to…to spend time with you.”

Marisa smiled. “Maybe we ought to do it again sometime. Outside of work.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “I would like that.”

Marisa leaned in then and Mary stopped breathing. The scent of vanilla and lavender invaded her senses again and then, suddenly, the feather light touch of pink lips against her cheek. Her mind went blank, her eyes shut, and the butterflies in her stomach became a swarm.

When Marisa pulled back, Mary wasn’t ready to lose the contact. She smiled up at the taller woman, and then leaned in to rest her head against Marisa’s shoulder. There was a moment of hesitation, and then the pressure of Marisa’s cheek on her curly hair and a gentle squeeze of their linked hands.

Reality faded away. The music swirled around them, wrapping the two women into it’s safe embrace. There may have been other couples on the dance floor and the reception hall may have been crowded - but to Mary, the only other person in the room was the woman in her arms. Marisa Coulter.

 _So,_ _take my hand, take my whole life too._

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

* * *

On the other side of the reception hall, Jess smirked as she leaned up against the bar.

“I told you it would work.”

“What?” Oliver took his drink from the bartender, glancing at his new wife.

Jess nodded towards the center of the dance floor. “I saw that new coworker of yours pull Mary out on the floor when we were still dancing. Look at the two of them now.”

Oliver followed her gaze, his eyebrows creeping their way towards his hairline as he watched Mary lean herself against Marisa. “I’ll be damned.”

“She caught the bouquet,” Jess grinned, then sat her drink down so she could wrap her arms around her new husband. “Never doubt the power of the bouquet.” 

_…for I can’t help falling in love with you._

**Author's Note:**

> Whoever was talking about Maryisa dancing with a height difference on twitter this morning - this fic is dedicated to you! (I cannot find the tweet I saw to save my life so I don't know who it was - please reveal yourself so I can properly credit you if you read this lol). 
> 
> Thanks for reading, friends, I hope this made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.


End file.
